


Bad Love

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Smut [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Desk Sex, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: ivotecrowley666 Could you please write one one shot where the reader and Crowley have angry fight sex on his throne? Please and thank you :-)</p><p>100 kinks: #49, #65</p><p>Character: Crowley</p><p>Author: Frankie (spnsmutscribe)</p><p>Reader Gender: Female</p><p>Word Count: 1,100+</p><p>Warnings: Roughness, angry sex, etc.</p><p>A/N: I’m so sorry this has taken so long! Life has been crazy busy and it feels like I have no time to write any more. It’s here now, and I really hope it was worth the wait! (Although throne sex sort of became desk sex).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Love

You knew it was only a matter of time. No one went behind the king’s back and got away with it. His network of spies and turn-coats both within and outside Hell’s boundaries boggled the mind, and you had been taking risks.

“…You. Did. What?” He was steely cold, eyes narrowed. He suddenly sounded very English, his accent pronounced by his anger. “Tell me!” He struck his fists on the desk, blood suffusing his face.

“I met with the Winchesters.”

“Why?”

“You’re always playing with them, I wondered what you saw in them.”

“They’re pains in my backside, Y/N. I don’t spend time with them because it’s _fun_.”

“Then you’re doing something wrong.” Your bravado concealed your anxiety. You’d mucked up, and you were certain he’d never forgive you or trust you with the high-status work he’d given you before.

“You don’t know half of what you’re dipping your toe into, _sweetheart_. The Winchesters tolerate me because I have power. You have nothing beyond that I allow you, and frankly that’s slimming by the second that you defy me. What did you want with them?”

“Nothing!”

“Did you do deals?”

“No!”

“If you’re lying to me…” He growled, his voice dropping an octave or two, and tingles ran through you.

“They wanted information.”

“What sort of information?” He rounded the desk, grasping your shoulders in an iron grip and shaking you gently.

“About your past. Where they can find your bones.” His eyes widened with shock.

“Wh-what the hell? What did you tell them? _How did they pay you?_ ”

“I-I lied to them. Told them crap. Made out like I didn’t want anything for the information, so obviously they gave me information back.”

“You’re a stupid little slapper, aren’t you?” Crowley pushed you back against the wall, his hands gripping your shoulders tight enough to bruise, and you gasped. “Don’t know what game you’re playing. Don’t understand the consequences.” His voice was threateningly soft, until it was abruptly loud. “MY HEAD COULD ROLL BECAUSE OF YOU.” It reverberated through you, his face pressed against yours as he yelled.

“I-I swear…”

“You swear nothing, you’ve got nothing to swear on. Except this pretty little meatsuit.” One hand left your shoulder and tipped your chin up. “And I think I’ll take what I want.” His lips ran down your neck, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin there, until he reached the hollow at the base of your throat and bit, hard. You gasped, your fingers tightening on his biceps. “You give nothing to anyone, except me. That clear, darlin’?”

“Yes, yes sir.”

“Good.” He hauled you away from the wall, shoved you against the heavy, wooden desk, the backs of your thighs striking the edge and forcing you backwards over the surface. Before you could pull yourself upright, he loomed over you, and pushed you back. “You do as I say.” He hissed it, his mouth close to your ear, his hands gripping your forearms, and he forced his legs between your thighs, pushing closer to you. “You do as I tell you. And you are grateful.” Suddenly his lips were on yours, a punishingly hard kiss, all tongue and teeth and violence and the taste of blood and whiskey infiltrated your mouth as he bit your lips. You wriggled your hands within his grasp, trying to reach him. He reared back from you, a hand whipping across your face. “Did I say you could touch me?”

“Noo, sir.” It emerged on a groan, and you flopped back in submission. He snapped his fingers, and your wrists were pulled above your head and fastened with rope to the legs of the desk. A second snap, and your legs were tied to the other set of desk legs, and he loomed over you again. Impatience ripped through you, and you writhed on the desk. Something pressed your torso down onto the surface and he slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up to cup your breasts, his mouth returning to yours. He was far from gentle, using as many aspects of his power as he could; a demonstration you would never forget. He rutted against you, his clothed core aligning with yours, and you could feel the strength of his arousal.

“Look at you, spread out on my desk like the dirty little whore you are. Shame about the clothes.” He winked, his eyes flickering red, before he clicked again, stripping both of you into a state of nudity.

Pulling himself over you, he explored your body with hands and teeth and mouth, and thrills of pleasure shot out from each place he touched, lighting a conflagration in you which had you whining and writhing beneath him. As he worked his way lower, you shuddered, his fingertips rubbing over your inner thighs as he knelt before you.

“This is the only time you’ll ever see me on my knees, darlin’. Remember that.” He smirked up at you as you struggled to lift yourself enough to see what exactly was going on between your legs. “Uh-uh, no peeping or you won’t get any… _presents._ ” Almost the moment he stopped talking, wet heat met your aching pussy and a sigh of pleasure left you. His tongue investigated every millimetre of you, seeking every drop of your excitement, flicking your clit with intense power and sends stars to your eyes. Abruptly, his demeanour changed. Two fingers slid into your soaked core, crooking in exactly the right place, and a thumb pressed down hard on your clit. Ruthlessly rubbing your clit and seeking your sweet spots inside, he observed your reactions, the whimpers and cries ripped from your throat, the intricate tensing of muscles and the interplay of skin and tendon as you strained against your bonds as he worked you beautifully to your end.

You came with a curse and a cry, your muscles pulling futilely against the force which held you in place as your entire being contracted. He withdraw his fingers, his own aching need prominently evident. Barely waiting for you to relax, he thrust into you, your sensitized nerves screaming pleasure-pain as he pushed inside, his length stretching and filling you further than you’d ever felt before, and it nearly sent you over the edge. He fucked into you like a fiend, head bowed to your shoulder, fingers gripping your hips so hard welts were appearing, each movement adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body, and before you knew what was happening the abyss opened up beneath you. You plummeted, shrieking, screaming pleasure erupting through you as he followed you over the edge.

Panting, you realised your bonds were gone, and you gently ran your hands over your king’s shoulders, alert to any movement which might indicate your touch was unwelcome. He pulled away, grasping your hands in his, and kissed your knuckles.

“You are mine, clear? You don’t disobey me, and you don’t fuck about with those damned Winchesters!”

“Yes, sir.” You played as contrite as you could. “I’m yours, Crowley.”


End file.
